It was then that Steve began to feel something start to wind itself up inside of him, almost like there was a giant rubber band that was coiling on top of itself. Another contraction was coming. He didn’t know how he knew, but that feeling was his muscles tensing up in preparation for another round of involuntary and agonizing pushing.
His first instinct was to just ride it out, but he could sense a malicious presence emanating from his phone. It was almost as if the app was bating him, telling his “yes little girl, be weak, give in and be rewarded by finding out what its like to push a baby through that tight little cunt of yours.”
Fuck. Steve knew the app was malicious. His last contraction had lasted, what? Forever? It was so hard to tell time when you were in agony like that. So, let’s say this one lasted five minutes, what could happen in that time?
Well, maybe there was more amniotic fluid in him and it would spurt out, shorting the phone. Or maybe Steve’s “husband” would wake up and either break the phone or try to use it himself. Even worse, maybe someone else would have heard his agonized screams earlier and they would come to investigate.
Steve knew, deep down inside, that this was a challenge. He had to change the sentence before this contraction was over or he’d find himself in the back of a FEMA truck, with a scientist holding his puffball tail up so that the others could all to get a look at the head crowning from his vagina.
No, he realized, those FEMA scientists would be itching to get a look at the head crowning in *her* vagina, because if he ended up in the back of that truck then he was going to be spending the rest of *her* life as a female anthropomorphic rabbit.
Steve rose from the toilet, climbed over the unconscious addict, and made his way to the phone. He could feel the muscles winding tighter and tighter, as he was confronted with a new challenge – his enormous stomach prevented him from just bending over to pick up the phone.
Placing one hand on his belly to help support it, Steven slowly crouched down as his other hand reached down for the phone. Ending up in a full squat, Steve finally managed to grab the phone, only to realize the predicament he had put himself into. As Steve had squatted down, he’d spread his legs to help keep balance, but now in a full squat with his legs fully spread, Steve found himself in a natural birthing position.
It was as though squatting like this was some sort of signal that he had sent to his body that now was the time to give birth. Steve could feel an uncomfortable spasm in his vagina as the rest of his muscles wound faster and faster. He was seconds away from the contraction, and this was going to be the biggest one yet.
Steve was confronted with an impossible decision. If he stayed squatting, he wouldn’t have enough time to edit the sentence before the contraction hit. Would he even be able to edit it mid-contraction? And if he did, what was the chance that his body’s involuntary spasms would cause him to make a mistake, potentially dooming him to a life that was somehow worse than the one he was already living?
On the other hand, he could try to stand up. If his muscles went back to winding up at the rate they were when he was standing, then that might buy him what? 20-30 seconds? But what if he was wrong? What if he only got 10 seconds? He couldn’t imagine that he’d be able to hold onto the phone during the contraction and dropping it from a standing position was sure to break it – or to at least put it out of Steve’s reach until the contraction was over.
Then there was a final issue – the wave of submission that Steve felt welling up inside of him. Steve was now in the body of a girl, and not just any girl, a rabbit girl. Both the X chromosomes and the rabbit DNA that controlled every cell of his body seemed to sap his willpower. Even worse was the fact that something about being in labor furthered that submissive instinct. It was almost as though his body itself was telling him “no, you’re just supposed to give birth. Other people will help you, just wait for them while you focus on the labor.”
Whether it was looking at the phone or just standing up, his body seemed to be resisting his mental commands unless they were backed by an inordinate amount of willpower. Steve had never been forced to make a decision like this before, and he’d never experienced his own body trying to kowtow him into a state of utter submission.
He didn’t want to be a rabbit girl and he didn’t want to give birth. He wanted to be a man and for things to go back to normal. But with time ticking down until the pained cries of a laboring, soon to be mother echoed off the bathroom walls, Steve didn’t know what to do to avoid being that soon to be mother.